The time on the grandfather clock was approaching half past eight, and Aurora was sat in a blissfully draughty corner of the library, a hardbacked journal propped up on her right knee and a heavy stack of papers on the desk in front of her. So far, they had turned up little of interest. Most of her family had just died from unfortunate health issues, which even if they occurred at relatively young ages, could be put down to genetic difficulties. That was unsettling enough, though not all that surprising considering their family tree was formed of a lot of interconnected circles. And, really, their family line had been lucky; there had always, in all forty-two generations, been a living male heir who lived at least long enough to produce another. Any sudden deaths did speculate poison, or curses, but there was no foul play officially recorded except where someone had been literally beheaded by their political rival (Castor I, 1647), executed for witchcraft (his wife, Calliope, 1645), or killed by a curse in a duel (Rollon I, 1153). There were a handful of mentions of blood curses as potential causes of death, but none went into enough detail that she could pinpoint them as the Transmogrifian. None included a sole perpetrator, either; the blood curse was the cause of illness, but not necessarily the immediate murder weapon.

What did grab her attention was the mention of her grandfather Orion's death. Potential causes were listed as stress, heart sickness, sudden complications, but then, in her grandmother's tight writing in the margin: deathly pact. It was a strange thing to write, so obscure and vague and unqualified, but she knew that her grandfather had died not long after her Uncle Regulus. Perhaps, she thought, they were linked. But there were no other leads, and she found herself frustrated by the time the clock eventually reached four and the front door chimed open.

She straightened and listened out, wondering if it was Dora back early, or her father come to visit. As it was, she heard Professor Dumbledore's voice ringing out, and groaned as she snapped her journal closed and pushed herself away from the desk, to greet him.

Her grandmother's portrait had begun its wailing by the time she reached the hallway, and Granger and the Weasley children were traipsing down the stairs, drawn out by the sound.

"Can't someone shut her up?" Fred Weasley said, as Aurora passed beneath the stairs, and gave him only a half-hearted glare — the portrait was, after all, calling his family worthless blood traitors and she felt the boy's reaction was somewhat warranted.

"Shush, Grandmother," she said crisply, looking round the corner to catch sight of Dumbledore's periwinkle robes. "We have company, we must be polite."

"You let them in here," her grandmother said, eyes narrowed. "You traitor, I never should have taken you—"

"I command you to quiet," Aurora snapped, and pulled curtains shut over the portrait. There were a few annoyed mumbles, and then silence. She turned to look up at the other children with raised eyebrows. "Apologies. One of you Gryffindors could find some bravery among you to pull the curtains over, you know?"

"Yeah, for all the good it'd do," Ron Weasley said, while Hermione and Ginny beckoned her upstairs. "Has she ever listened to anyone but you?"

"Maybe someone could try and find out once in a while," Aurora replied, coming up the stairs to meet the girls on the landing.

"Is it Dumbledore?" Ginny asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Again?"

She nodded. "Looks like it."

"Do you think something's happened to Harry?"

"I half hope so," Aurora muttered darkly, "if only because it'd mean Dumbledore would actually do something by for a change. But my dad isn't here, and I imagine he would, if something had happened to his godson, so I'm not sure."

"Tell us what they say?" George asked, leaning over. "We're working on those ears we told you about, but they're slow-going."

"We reckon your dad might've figured out we've been making some things more suited to subterfuge," Fred explained, and Aurora shrugged.

"As long as you can sell them, when the time comes, that's fine." The boys had told her about their plans to open a joke shop shortly after her father had revealed it to her, and despite initial reluctance, Aurora had to admit there could be a lot of money in it; Fred and George already knew the Hogwarts students who were their target market, they were well-regarded for their own pranks, and even she had to admit, some of the things they had invented were genius. They were talented, more than she had ever expected, and she had to admit a grudging respect. "The ears are still good for jokes," she continued, "and he'd approve. He thinks teenage rebellion is good for the soul." She leaned over the landing, hearing footsteps come their way, and raised her voice enough for the others to hear. "I'll see you soon. Don't go in the library."

"Why not?" Ron Weasley asked, eyes narrowed.

"Because I don't want you to, that's why not. It's dreadfully boring, but I've a system and you had better not mess anything up."

With that, she spun back around and skipped down the stairs, landing neatly just as Professor Dumbledore rounded the corner, accompanied by Molly Weasley and Elphias Doge. He blinked as though surprised to see her, but recovered smoothly.

"Aurora. I wasn't sure if you'd be here today."

"I had some research to do in my library, sir. Is everything alright?"

"We hope so," Dumbledore said, exchanging looks with Molly. "There had been an incident in Little Whinging."

Her heart sank. The Weasley children were still gathered in the shadows above her, one false fleshy ear dangling dangerously close to Molly's eyeline. "What kind of incident? Has my father been informed?"

"He has. He should be through soon enough." He glanced up to the shadows and signed. "Molly, I believe your children may be curious."

Aurora heard a stifled giggle from above and bit her lip. "Fred," Molly snapped immediately, "George! Stop eavesdropping."

A great shuffling of feet, and Ginny Weasley's head appeared round the bannister. "Oh, it's you, Professor. We had no idea. Come on you lot, Aurora's talking to Dumbledore. Lovely to see you, Black."

"Ginevra," Molly sighed.

Dumbledore waved a hand as the other four trundled down the stairs. "They will all find out soon enough. Harry Potter and his cousin Dudley Dursley were, we understand, attacked by a pair of Dementors earlier this evening."

"Dementors?"

"In Little Whinging?"

"You're having a laugh!"

"Regretfully, Mr Weasley, I am not — I don't find Dementors to be particularly amusing creatures, in my experience. Harry and his cousin thankfully managed to escape, through Harry's use of the Patronus Charm, but unfortunately, the Ministry have been alerted to this by the Trace being set off, and he is to be called in for a disciplinary hearing in a week and a half's time. It seems Little Whinging is no longer safe." He glanced at Aurora, lips pressed tightly together. "You have your wish, Lady Black."

"I did not wish for this to happen," she said, and was pleased when Molly Weasley didn't even correct her.

"We will be making arrangements to go and collect him from his aunt and uncle's house in a few days' time. In the meantime, please, do not contact him or give him any forewarning; we cannot run the risk of interception, especially now."

He gave Aurora a firm look, and she nodded. "Understood, sir."

"With that, I'm afraid I must leave you all. Molly, Elphias…"

They made their way back toward the kitchen, and Aurora turned to the other children. "Dementors?"

"You don't think it's… You-Know-Who?"

"It's a pretty bold move," Aurora said, contemplating. "But he wants Potter dead, not soulless."

"Yeah but I reckon someone not having a soul might make it a bit easier to kill them."

"True. Maybe."

"Scary, though," Ronald said with a shiver. "They better get him here soon. That aunt and uncle of his'll be doing their nut."

Aurora thought back grimly to her unfortunate interactions with the Dursley family last summer. "Yes, I'm afraid they might." She sighed, looking longingly back at the library. "I suppose I'll have to stick about with you lot for a while, if my dad's going to be here. Likely Dora will, too."

But her father didn't appear. Aurora spent a little time talking to Hermione about their summer Arithmancy homework before she returned to the library, but by half past nine, Dora had stuck her head in to inform Aurora that her dad, despite having been sent an urgent summons by Dumbledore, had failed to show up to the Grimmauld Place meeting that night, and enquired as to whether or not Aurora had any idea why.

"Last he said to me, he was going to stick a film on that new telly-thing he got himself. I said I'd be back around ten, but he knows I'm here, so I don't see why he'd be waiting or anything."

"Hm." Dora frowned. "You don't think something might've happened to him, too?"

"Tippy would have told me if something was amiss. I would feel it if someone got past the wards."

They met each others' eyes, as the most likely option dawned on them both. "You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Merlin, Gryffindors are so bloody reckless!"

They left it until ten, before Dumbledore gave Aurora and Dora the go ahead to Floo back to Arbrus Hill. She had to get back anyway, she told herself. Dora, of course, was back-up, in case anything truly was wrong.

When she arrived in the front room at Arbrus Hill, she stepped quickly out of the fireplace and regarded the room with caution.

"Dad?" Dora stepped out behind her, wand aloft. "It's me, Aurora, Dora's come with me to say hi."

Silence. Aurora surveyed the room; nothing was disturbed or out of place, except for a note laid out on the coffee table, sealed with red wax.

She crossed the room toward it quickly and sliced the back open. It was short.

To Aurora,

Just got an urgent letter from Harry, he's been attacked at his aunt and uncle's and they've locked him in his bedroom for the foreseeable future and said they aren't going to give him any meals. I'm going to get him. The Order might find out before I'm back anyway, but if they don't know yet, give them a heads up. If I take a while and you want to go back to Grimmauld or Andromeda's for the night just leave me a note and don't worry about it.

Love you!

Dad

"I hate Gryffindors."

"He's gone to get him, hasn't he?"

"Yep."

"Well, that's the last hour and a half of my life wasted. Shit — did he say what time he left?"

"No, but he seems not to have received Dumbledore's letter by the time he left. Presumably Harry wrote to him himself, though how he got the letter to him so quickly…"

As if on cue, her house elf appeared in the front room, eyes wide. "Tippy thought she heard Mistress Aurora. Sirius said to tell you that everything's alright; Harry Potter called Tippy earlier to get a message here about a very terrible thing happening at home, and Sirius went fo find him straight away!"

"On the motorbike?" Tippy nodded.

"Tippy offered to get Mister Harry for Sirius, and Apparate him here, but Mister Sirius said it might raise an alarm for underage magic and we couldn't risk it."

"I see." That did make decent enough sense, she supposed. And if her father didn't have any more details than simply Potter had been attacked, it would also make sense that he would want to get down there as soon as he could and deal with it — and the Dursleys — himself. She tried to work out in her head how long it should take her father to get between Arbrus Hill and Little Whinging. From what she remembered it was just under an hour one way, but he would no doubt want to talk to the Dursleys too and sort things out.

"I'll go let Dumbledore know," Dora said from behind her. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Tell him my father didn't know he was summoned," Aurora said with pleading eyes. "I don't want anyone to have an excuse to have a go at him."

Dora nodded, and was swept away in the flames. Aurora sat down on the armchair with a sigh, pleased to find her cat Stella pattering into the room to curl up on her lap. "Thank you for letting me know all that, Tippy. You've been a great help."

Tippy smiled. "I like Mister Harry Potter when he visits. Not as much as I like you, of course."

"Oh, nobody could ever like anyone more than they like me."

Tippy's smile broadened, and a little laugh escaped her. "I do hope Harry is okay. He seemed not to be hurt, but he was very pale."

"He was attacked by Dementors," Aurora said, prompting Tippy to shudder. "But he and his cousin are mostly unharmed, and the Dementors' effects on wizards wear off within a few hours, usually. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Behind her, the fireplace blazed to life again and Dora came back through, accompanied by a rather grim-faced Dumbledore. "It seems you and your father are more alike than I thought."

"What, you didn't expect this of him?"

Dumbledore sighed and did not answer, which Aurora took to mean, yes.

"Did your father give a timeframe for his return?"

Aurora shook her head. "Probably within the next hour, based on previous experience. Unless he hexes one of the Dursleys."

"Why would he do that?"

"You've never met them, have you?" Aurora scoffed. "You'd know, if you had. Anyway." She sat down stubbornly on the arm of the couch and opened up a book from within her bag. "I'll wait for them, if you like."

"I think I'd best have a word with Sirius."

"Not tonight," Aurora said, with just enough of a plea in her voice. "Potter… Well, it seems he's gone through rather an ordeal tonight, and it's late. Surely it's more important to get Potter settled and feeling safe?"

"I agree," Dora put in, and Aurora shot her a grateful look. "We don't know what sort of state Harry will be in, and he — if he is as volatile as you think, it might be better to have people he is more comfortable with around. I'll stay, in case of any trouble, but it may be better if we organise a meeting tomorrow instead?"

Dumbledore pondered this, eyes flickering over Aurora. "I really do think I need to speak to Sirius."

"At the moment," Dora said, "considering we're operating off the assumption that Sirius hasn't actually received your summons, could we consider this to be a family matter? A godfather collecting his godson after he's gotten in trouble?"

"He's within his rights to do that," Aurora said, heart beating furiously with gratitude that Dora was on the same wavelength with her. "Well within them. It's not like the Order had custody of him, is it?"

After a moment, Dumbledore conceded, "No. It is not. Very well, I can see you will not move on this. See to it that I and Headquarters are informed immediately once they arrive, Miss Tonks."

"Yes, sir," Dora said, and when she shot Aurora a firm glance, she muttered the same.

"Shall I get Harry's room in order?" Tippy asked Aurora, who looked at Dumbledore, and nodded.

"Please, Tippy, that'd be really helpful of you." He might end up staying at Grimmauld Place for a bit with her friends, which seemed to have been the original plan — and Aurora too, had spent a few nights at Headquarters when the meetings went late or she had work she wanted to do.

Tippy disappeared away up the stairs and with a nod to her, Dumbledore left, and they were alone with the quiet and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

"They'll be fine," Dora told Aurora, when a minute had gone past without them speaking.

"I'm not worried about them."

"Right, yeah, of course."

"My father will be perfectly fine, and the motorbike death trap so far has not sent anybody plummeting to an early grave, and I'm sure Potter will bounce back just as usual, and even get to ride it without being in the sidecar, which he will brag about for—"

There was a roar in the distance, and Aurora broke off, hurrying to the window. Bright white headlights came leering through the sky and cast their glow over the grass as the machine trundled up the path towards the house. Behind Aurora, Dora went out to greet them at the doorway, but Aurora lingered at the window, arms crossed, until the sound of clattering and chattering got close and the three of them came back into the lounge.

Aurora raised her eyebrows. "Patronus still holding up, then, Potter?"

He grinned feebly; but Aurora could see his heart was not in it, that something cold and scared and frantic lingered behind his smile. "Just about, yeah."

"Tippy's getting your usual room ready for you," she told him, and her father gave her a grateful smile. "What happened?"

"Dementors," Potter said darkly. "I fought them off, Aunt Petunia tried to kick me out, then someone sent her a letter, then I got expelled—"

"Expelled?"

"—then I got unexpelled pending a hearing, and then I wrote to Sirius who showed up and scared the pants off Uncle Vernon."

"But I did manage to help Dudley out," Aurora's dad said cheerfully, letting Hedwig out of her cage to flutter around the room. Stella let out a hiss and scarpered under the sofa. "Don't think he's very good with Dementors."

"No one is, really."

"Anyway, I gave them a bit of a talking to about the fact they were going to lock my godson in his room and starve him, and discovered this isn't an especially uncommon form of punishment, and then I kindly informed them he will not be returning to Privet Drive next summer."

"Just like that?"

"They're glad to see the back of me," Harry assured them.

"Sirius," Dora said with a frown, "I'm not sure you can just say those things."

"I did get some unexpected pushback from Petunia. Apparently she needs to make a call to someone."

"I've never seen her show so much affection as when she said they had to keep the good for nothing brat."

"She wasn't very convincing. But Harry's here for the summer at least, we agreed on that."

"Good," Aurora said shortly, dodging Hedwig the owl as she lunged toward the window. "I'm glad. Everybody's been worried about you — your friends, I mean."

"So you have been with them?" Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

"They've been holding me hostage."

"We'll explain everything in the morning," Aurora's father said, ruffling Harry's hair. "The important thing right now is, you're safe."

"But I want to know," Harry said, surprising Aurora. "I know there's something going on, that you must be fighting Voldemort, but you haven't told me."

Her father grinned, but Dora stepped in. "We'll get round to the details in the morning, like your dad said. All you need to know right now is, your dad and I are members of the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society set up in the first war, yes, to fight You-Know-Who. Dumbledore's in charge and that's what we've been doing all summer; us, and Molly and Arthur Weasley, and Remus Lupin, and loads more of us. Aurora kindly donated us a space to use as our headquarters, which you'll see soon."

"That's how you got to be so involved."

Aurora nodded. "I did advocate for you to learn all this, and come here earlier, but unfortunately, people don't like me."

"It's not because people—"

"Let's not get into that, shall we?" her father said loudly. "You need to rest first, Harry. And I promise I'll tell you everything first thing in the morning — if that's enough for you now?"

Potter hesitated, then nodded. "Don't worry, we'll get you up to speed in no time."

"I'll get the message to Dumbledore that you're safe," Dora said, headed towards the fireplace. "And Molly — she's losing her mind fussing over you, Harry."

"Really?" If Aurora was not mistaken, Potter's face bore telltale signs of surprised gratitude. "Well, I'm alright, tell her."

Dora looked as though she doubted that definition of alright, but nevertheless bade them all goodnight before disappearing through the Floo.

Aurora's father flopped down onto the sofa and said, "Alright, Harry, what do you want to know?"

Potter stared at him. "But you just said…"

"Yeah, what Dora doesn't know can't hurt the Order. Everyone's a bit on edge since someone snuck out to see you and deliver unknown messages."

Aurora shrugged. "Well, you flew a motorbike to see him and brought him back here without telling anyone, so I think we're even."

"Not sure we're the most popular in the Order, mind you."

"Well, no, I suspect Molly Weasley will have a few things to say. And Dumbledore."

Her father pulled a face.

"Dumbledore knows?"

"Of course he knows. Dumbledore knows everything."

Potter scowled. "Why's he being so secretive? I take it he doesn't want me knowing anything about the Order?"

Aurora's father nodded. "In fairness, even the other children at Headquarters don't know much about what we're doing. Dumbledore feels that you're all too young to know the details. Now, I don't entirely agree. I think you've proved yourself more than capable of dealing with Voldemort, and more than earned the right to know what he's doing and what we're doing to fight him."

"And what is he doing? I've been checking the papers all summer and there's been nothing, and Aurora said the same, and no one at the Assembly seemed to know if anything suspicious had happened."

"Of course they didn't. Because he hasn't really done anything — yet. He's lying low, but he's gathering allies, we can presume that much. On the other hand, we're trying to get the message out there, with not much success.

"Everyone has different projects, missions, things I really am sworn to confidentiality on. Hagrid's trying to win the giants to our side; Remus is rooting out werewolves he thinks he can persuade to be loyal to him, before Fenrir Greyback's lot start sniffing about again. I've been here and there, others have been keeping watch—"

"Watch over what?"

Sirius grinned. "The Ministry. All sorts, but mainly the Department of Mysteries. See, Voldemort's after something he didn't have last time, a weapon. It's… He thinks it can help him win the war."

"What sort of weapon?"

The prophecy. Her father had not outright told Aurora that was what they were keeping watch on, but she had put it together. He had told her the first time they met that the Dark Lord had come after Potter because of a prophecy that said he would destroy him; prophecies were kept in the Department of Mysteries and from what she could discern, the Dark Lord — and the Order — thought there was more to it than any of them yet knew.

Her father hesitated a moment before saying, "Knowledge. Of how he can win."

"How does that work? How can you keep watch over knowledge?"

"You can do anything in the Department of Mysteries," Aurora told him lightly, catching her father's eye. He had been adamant about making sure Potter knew as much as he could tell him; why be so vague now? "It's a fascinating place."

"Did you know this?"

She shrugged. "I worked out more than I was told."

Her father sighed. "Frustrating but true. Anyway, I haven't been dealing with that, it's mainly those who have access to the Ministry. But, I've been reaching out to old friends — and some, not friends — and learning, trying to gather intelligence on who might be joining up with the Death Eaters."

"And? Have you confirmed anyone? Cause there were loads there, that night, I can tell you; Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Goyle, MacNair…"

Aurora shifted uncomfortable, the names echoing in her ears as her skin crawled. "We're working on it. Slowly. The obvious suspect we've got, but we're looking to prevent just now. It's not like the Ministry can take anybody in or arrest them right now, and they certainly wouldn't listen to us. Kingsley is dealing with some cases, you know, seeing if he can get any warrant for confirmed Death Eaters, for any other crime which might lead to an investigation which'll prove what we're saying. But so far, no luck. And of course the Aurors are still dealing with the Azkaban investigation, and appeals from those who're locked up. No one's been found innocent, but it's still taking up time. Apart from that, I'm afraid to report, it's slow-going."

Potter didn't look satisfied with this, but her father did not say much more. "If we're fighting, then when can I join?"

Her father grinned. "I knew you'd say that. But I'm afraid the Order won't accept members until they're of age."

"But I've fought him!"

"I know you have, and I'm sure we'd be lucky to have you in our ranks, but not yet." Potter muttered something under his breath, but reluctantly accepted this.

"I can still do something. I know who was there, what he wants to do, and he said himself he wants to get the Dementors on his side! We can find him and stop him, before it's too late!"

"That's what we're trying to do, Harry, trust me. I know you want to fight, so did I! But wait til you're out of school."

"That's three years from now!" Potter cried, indignant. "Who knows what he'll do by then? I can't wait three years to join up and start fighting!"

Aurora highly doubted the Dark Lord would let Potter rest for three years without having to fight him. "Therm's the rules," her father said, "but that doesn't mean you sit around doing nothing. You learn and you get stronger, so that when the time comes, you can fight him and you can defeat him, for good. You keep up with Duelling Club, you push yourself… You get through this war, Harry. Keeping you alive is the most important thing."

Aurora tried not to let that nettle. In terms of the consequences of the war, if Potter was destined to destroy the Dark Lord, keeping him alive was really the only way to properly win. She just didn't like her dad saying it with her sitting right there.

"Right now," she cut in, reminding them she was there, "we have to figure out what to do about your hearing. I heard you got expelled initially, is that right?"

Potter nodded glumly. "They can't go through with it," her father assured him, "you'll be with Amelia Bones, she's very fair. It was self-defence, all you have to do is testify to that. It's not like the Patronus would be used just for the hell of it. Plus, Dudley already knows about your magic; it's a valid exception to the Statute of Secrecy which means you can inform close Muggle family members — household relations, pretty much — of your magic, and perform magic in front of them if the situation requires it. You'll be fine," he said, clapping Potter on the shoulder. "I promise. And I'll come with you, be there the whole time."

This seemed to cheer Potter up, and at least relieve some of the tension that had been pent up that evening. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Now, come on — it's late, and Harry, you've had a pretty rough day. It's time to get some sleep. I imagine we'll be headed to headquarters tomorrow."

"Your friends will be excited to see you," Aurora told Potter, who frowned at the words.

"Yeah. Sure."

She exchanged questioning glances with her father, who shook his head. Clearly, Potter still held a lingering resentment for them. "I on the other hand cannot wait to be shot of you."

A small, short laugh. "Good to see you, too, Black."